


Passive Me, Aggressive You.

by Penryn3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Complete, F/M, Forced Marriage, Friends to Enemies, Minor Violence, POV Draco Malfoy, Planned Mariticide, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), in love with another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23326630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penryn3/pseuds/Penryn3
Summary: Her other hand absently toys with the knife resting to the edge of her untouched plate, the tips of her expensive french manicure tapping against the polished silver. Draco wonders if she is visualizing plunging it into his chest.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass/Theodore Nott
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Passive Me, Aggressive You.

**Author's Note:**

> _"When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head.  
>  I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers.  
> The primal questions of any marriage:  
> What are you thinking?  
> How are you feeling?  
> What have we done to each other?  
> What will we do?"_  
> 
> 
> This Fic was inspired by the above quote from the movie Gone Girl (novel by Gillian Flynn).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.

Draco subtly observes his wife over the long expanse of their dining room table. The table was large enough to seat twelve and it still felt too close. She’s watching him instead of eating, one elegant hand twisting the long strand of pearls she’s wearing into a coil so tight it cuts into her throat slightly, causing the ivory skin of her neck to redden and blush. Her other hand absently toys with the knife resting to the edge of her untouched plate, the tips of her expensive french manicure tapping against the polished silver. Draco wonders if she is visualizing plunging it into his chest. He thinks he might have guessed correctly when the corner of her mouth tips up delicately into a vicious little smirk, as if her current train of thought is darkly entertaining. 

The only way out of a contracted Pureblood Marriage is through the death of your spouse. He is thankful, not for the first time, that they sleep in separate bedchambers. He wonders how long it will be before she works up the courage to actually attempt it. It’s March, and if he were a gambling man, he’d wager on her snapping before the year is out. He has no doubt that Astoria has been planning his funeral since the day they were married, though he’s sure his viper of a wife is more than smart enough to make it look like an unfortunate accident.

She notices him looking at her and the smirk vanishes quicker than it appeared, the near-constant mask of aloof indifference sliding home on her pretty face. He hates it. Sometimes he dreams of lashing out and hurting her, just to see if he can make her look at him with any kind of expression other than blank resentment. 

It hadn’t always been like this. They’d been close friends...once.

But then Astoria had fallen head over heels in love with Theodore Nott. 

Draco remembers the night it happened. A Christmas Party at Malfoy Manor during his 5th Year. Astoria had been a year younger. Draco remembers watching from the alcove balcony that over-looked the ballroom. He watched Theo lead her around the dance floor, the brightness of her laughter ringing clear as a bell across the echoing room. Her eyes had sparkled, long mahogany hair gleaming in the light, floating like a halo around her as she spun gracefully on his arm. In her silver dress, she'd shone as bright as any star – smiling wide and uninhibited as he dipped her to the floor. The young couple had only eyes for each other – clearly becoming more and more besotted as the evening wore on. 

Draco had watched them dancing awhile before his gaze caught on the small group huddled in the corner of the room. Two sets of parents, his own and hers, heads bent together in intense discussion as they too, observed the dancing couple with hostile eyes. He watched the snarling tilt of their lips as they schemed, and his heart had turned to lead inside his chest. 

Purebloods did not marry for love, and Astoria had been promised to Draco since the age of three. Draco wouldn't have minded breaking the engagement. He didn’t love Astoria and would have gladly given her and Theo his blessing and wished them joy in each other - but that hardly mattered. Pureblooded children were just puppeted dolls in their parents’ made-up game of house. Marriages were made for political alliance, social standing, power and money. The adults pulled the strings and their children danced. 

On her sixteenth birthday, Astoria’s parents informed her of their decision. Theo never even stood a chance. The Nott’s couldn’t possibly compete with the Malfoy's. The Malfoy's had more connections, more power and significantly more money. Astoria had rebelled, vehemently declaring her intention to marry Theodore Nott, her parents be damned. 

It hadn’t done any good. She was underage and her parents’ were influential. The marriage had been pushed forward and Astoria had been forcibly deposited at the chapel to marry Draco the week before her seventeenth birthday.

It was his fault he supposed. She had met his gaze when she reached the alter, hope flickering across her face like a flame in the wind, faint and dying. Her eyes had _begged_ him to save her. He had been eighteen and could have refused the marriage, but then he would have been disinherited and Draco had never been selfless a day in his life. His money was worth more to him than her broken heart, so he had said nothing. He had watched her face harden as that hope faded. It happened in slow degrees as the minutes ticked by, right up until the moment he said ‘I do’ and the flame snuffed out completely. He’d known from second those words left his mouth that this marriage would be the end of him. He had failed her, and she would hate him for it forever.

When he had leant forward to seal the marriage by pressing his lips to hers, her mouth had remained stiff and un-moving under his. When he pulled back, a stranger stood in the space his friend had previously occupied.

She’d worn black every day since.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments/Kudos are lovely ❤


End file.
